Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 140965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 705(@200wpm)___ 564(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 705(@200wpm)___ 564(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
He nodded. “Most of us do.”
“I also have the Hadronyche formidabilis venom in me. Another tree dweller, but much smaller than a cat.”
“A spider?” Draden guessed.
“Right the first time. The northern tree funnel-web spider. Whitney got a little creative with the venom.”
“And I put my hands on you.”
“I wasn’t about to kill you after I saved you. And by that time, I knew we were both infected. I figured you might have to shoot me.”
He winced at the thought. She was the last person in the world he wanted to kill. “Do you have control of the venom?”
She nodded. “I work at things until I get them right. I can make my eyebrows dance.”
She showed him, raising first one and then the other over and over, a little smile on her face. He wanted to kiss her. The desire hit him unexpectedly hard.
“That took practice,” she said. “I won’t tell you all the other things I’ve practiced, but I will say, I have great tongue control.” She gave him an impish grin and sauntered out to the front porch to check his clothes.
Draden stared after her. In the short time he’d spent with her, while the hemorrhagic virus was busy replicating itself in his body, slowly killing him, he’d felt more alive than he’d ever been. She’d even managed to bring his heart to life. She was magnificent. Women like that shouldn’t die of some man-made weapon just because the designers were pissed at someone. That wasn’t going to happen. He could figure it out.
He stared at the door knowing he should get his ass up, that she was doing all the work, but he was exhausted. He didn’t want to close his eyes, because they only had so much time. If he didn’t do anything else, he wanted to save her. He also wanted to spend every minute he could in her company. He still believed he had a good chance of saving her, but then, for his own sanity, he had to believe that. He doubted that he would live through this given the injection they’d given him, but as long as he could save her, he could accept that he had to go out in a violent, horrific way as atonement for his sins.
She stepped back inside minus his clothes. “A few more minutes and they’ll be ready. I can make coffee if you think that will help.”
“Coffee always helps.” He thought looking at her helped. “My head is pounding. Hurts like a son of a bitch.”
Instantly she looked sympathetic. “I can feel it,” she admitted as she filled a coffeepot. “There’s aspirin here in the first aid kit the rangers keep.” After putting the coffeepot on the stove, she rummaged through a bag that was just to the right of the bed, in a small, doorless closet. She brought him the aspirin and a glass of water.
While he washed down the medicine, her fingers slipped into his hair. His heart accelerated in a way he was beginning to associate with her. She had strong fingers, but she was gentle, stroking little caresses along his scalp, making him understand why cats purred. He had enough cat in him that he wanted to purr under her ministrations.
“No one’s ever done this for me before.” He was dying, so what the hell did he have to be embarrassed about? He could tell her anything.
“Done what?”
Her fingers never stopped moving, finding a rhythm and massaging deeper so that the jackhammer piercing his skull grew quiet.
“Taken care of me like this. I grew up on my own, finding my own way. I remember scrounging for food after my foster mother died. One of my teammates, Wyatt Fontenot, has a grandmother. We all call her Nonny. She was the first person who ever cooked a meal for me after that. She cooked for all of us, but she noticed if you liked a particular thing. She’d make that meal, and you knew she did it for you. She was the first after I lost my foster mother.” He kept his head down.
Her fingers kept moving. “So, you’re saying my meal wasn’t your first and you’ve already compared my cooking to hers.”
He was grateful she was turning to humor when he was revealing a very personal part of his past. He didn’t allow his memories to be painful. They were just facts to him and he treated them that way, but she had that compassion in her and wouldn’t view them the same way.
“Yeah, sweetheart, that’s what I’m saying. But you’re the first to ever have your fingers in my hair.”
“Really?” The note of surprise in her voice was genuine.
He glared up at her. “Woman, are you secretly calling me a liar?”
“I was thinking, if you hadn’t so abruptly ripped our connection to shreds, you would have known that this is another thing you should be charging for. Along with that list we’re making …”